Wolfsbane
by Rhys1
Summary: Slash. After nearly twenty years apart, Remus and Severus meet again in the halls of Hogwarts, but nothing can be the same again. WIP.
1. chapter 1

Severus Snape couldn't exactly claim that Remus Lupin had broken his heart. The truth was somewhat more complex than that, though the fact of the matter was that his heart had already been pretty busted up by the time Remus got there. Years living with a fickle bitch who played at being his mother, and after that more years spent with a boy who was in love with someone else had damaged him pretty much beyond repair. Lupin was simply the final blow.

Nor could he claim that Lupin's betrayal was the thing that convinced him that everything he ever loved would be somehow swept away from him. No, his father's suicide in his tenth year, the summer before Hogwarts, had that honor. A cruel man that Severus had loved with a desperate sharpness that pierced him every time he thought of it, and he had abandoned his only son. And then Benito, his cousin, the one person he could really call a friend, had gone home early from his usual summer visit, and had stopped writing shortly thereafter. At the time, Severus had been bewildered. Later, he would take it as simple inevitability in his relationships. His mother again, of course. Ben never told him what happened, but an adult Severus, looking back, could guess.

So on that night, so many years ago, when he had walked in on Lupin receiving a rather enthusiastic blow-job from Sirius Black in an abandoned classroom, it had merely brought home several truths that he had already internalized long ago. But to this day, Severus couldn't decide whether it would have been worse to learn those things for the first time that night, or what actually happened, to have forgotten them so carelessly and be reminded of them in a particularly brutal fashion.

Either way, there was a good deal of pain associated with Lupin in the potion master's mind. Distant pain, hurts that had dulled from the weight of nearly two decades, but pain nonetheless. Like old wounds that cried out on rainy nights, when the weather changed. They were a constant for Severus, but he had gotten used to that in his time at Hogwarts as a teacher. There were so many other things to feel regret about, so much more guilt and betrayal, that on the whole, Remus Lupin sort of faded into the background unless Severus was really thinking about it.

But how was he supposed to ignore the follies of his youth with the man himself sitting just three chairs down the table? Even with Dumbledore's warning (and how had the old man put it? Oh yes, "Delightful news, Severus! Remus Lupin will be joining us this year as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! Weren't you two especial friends in your school days?"), he could hardly be properly prepared for the sight of Lupin in the flesh, smiling politely, and so, so quiet.

The potions master scowled furiously down at his folded hands, listening as the headmaster droned on with his usual beginning of term announcements. He wasn't even allowed to be properly angry at the man! After all, the boy he had known so long ago was gone almost completely, replaced by this slender ghost that looked as though he would collapse if someone breathed on him too hard.

The Remus Lupin he had known had been a vital young man: short, but broad-shouldered, stocky and muscular. He'd had a brilliant shock of honey-brown hair, threaded with gold, forever shaggy and in need of a haircut, and the most amazingly bright hazel eyes, always crinkling around the edges with his sunny smiles. His Remus had always filled a room with his enthusiastic presence, though he was never particularly loud. His Remus had kissed impatiently, devouringly…

This Lupin was something else altogether. So thin, and it didn't suit him, not with those wide bones. His face was all angles now, instead of soft lines, and his eyes - darker, weren't they? – seemed sunken. Skin that had been creamy, had burnt so easily in the sun, was now dry-looking, papery. His smiles were small, polite, and he _never_ showed his teeth. The generous sprinkling of silver through his hair made the rich hues look almost dusty, and he wore it long now, gathered carelessly back into a horse's tail, strands escaping messily and curling around his face.

"Severus?" He looked over at Professor Vector to his right, frowning.

"What?" he snapped impatiently, and Vector raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I merely asked if you could pass the potatoes," the arithmancy professor pointed out dryly, and Severus sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"Of course," he answered stiffly, then added, as he supposed was appropriate, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I was thinking of something else."

"Or someone else, hm?" Vector asked carefully, only the barest hint of a smile in his voice as he filled his plate. And when had the food arrived? 

//Have I been that distracted?// Severus wondered in agitation. "Excuse me?'

"Well, you have been-" Vector interrupted himself with a small cough, and looked up with an artificially bright smile at the Slytherin. "So, Albus tells me that you and our new DADA teacher were here at Hogwarts together?"

Severus scowled again, as he set about dishing several chicken legs onto his plate. "Yes, I suppose so. It was a long time ago. We didn't get along very well," he lied automatically.

"Oh, really?" Vector studiously did not look at his fellow professor as he started to eat. Severus snorted.

"Headmaster Dumbledore needs to keep his nose out of other people's business," the Slytherin offered, spearing a piece of potato viciously.

"True," Vector laughed, flipping a bit of oak brown hair out of his face. "I still remember when I first came to teach here, oh, about ten years before you joined us, Severus…"

Severus nodded absently as the arithmancy professor related some long past incident. The potions master had been the youngest professor on staff at Hogwarts…though he supposed he couldn't really lay claim to that title anymore. Lupin was several months younger than he…

He turned his head surreptitiously to study the new DADA teacher again, now engaged in a quiet conversation with an animated McGonagall. His gestures as he explained something were small and neat, subdued. As the head of Gryffindor answered, Lupin looked up from her, and met Severus' eyes dead on.

There was a space of a few heartbeats in which Severus was captured, his breath stilled in his throat, drowning as he met the werewolf's startled eyes with his own. Clearly Lupin hadn't been expecting him to be looking, either, and both men stared at each other down the short length of the table, neither blinking.

Then Severus came back to himself, and he scowled furiously, narrowing his eyes angrily at the other man. How _dare_ Lupin look at him like that! Like…like he had some right to meet the Slytherin's gaze after what he had done! He watched those normally warm eyes blink a few times, then an indifferent mask fall over the werewolf's face, something else new. And very deliberately Lupin turned his attention back to McGonagall. He didn't look at Severus again for the rest of the meal.

Severus resolved to himself then and there that he would make every effort to avoid Lupin for the rest of the year.

* * * * *

Remus Lupin didn't know whether to be relieved or anxious to be back in Hogwarts again. Certainly, he was grateful for the work, after so many years living hand to mouth. After his family had died, and then James, Lily, and Peter so soon after, and Sirius imprisoned…well, he had been on his own for a very long time. He worked in the Muggle world for a time, but he never was able to hold a job for long. Not that he wasn't a good worker, but the conditions he required to be safe every full moon…he had never made enough money for the proper facilities to lock himself up, which meant having to live in places near stretches of deep forest. He had spent many years in Snowdonia, but it was hard to find work there, at least for an unskilled laborer like himself.

And then the letter had arrived, at exactly the right time, and he had packed up his few belongings in his one meager suitcase, and had come immediately. He had never considered himself much of a scholar, though he had enjoyed reading immensely as a youth, and hadn't exactly figured himself for professor material. But Dumbledore's letter had been so encouraging…

_Remus, I know you'll be reluctant to take the position, but I have every confidence that you will be fully capable of fulfilling the requirements brilliantly. I know of no other person who is so familiar with Dark creatures, and your extensive knowledge of curses and counter-curses is equally impressive. _

Of course he was familiar with Dark creatures! Wasn't he one himself, and hadn't he spent years living side by side with them? His knowledge of curses and counter-curses was bitterly won as well.

He remember that first conversation with Dumbledore.

_"But Professor-"_

"Call me, Albus, please. We don't stand on formality here at Hogwarts."

"Albus, then. Won't the board of governors object to having a werewolf on staff, teaching their children?" He had been so anxious, then.

"Ah, well, I don't quite think that's any of their business." Those mischievous blue eyes had twinkled as Remus had sighed in frustration. He had sat back in shock at Dumbledore's next words, however.

"Besides, there are some mitigating factors to consider. I suppose you've heard of the Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Yes, of course, but isn't that an incredibly difficult potion to prepare?"

"Well, I suppose it is, but we have a very talented potions master teaching here who has assured me that he is quite up to the task." The headmaster had paused then. "I believe you know him, in fact. Severus Snape?"

And God, what a shock _that_ had been. Severus Snape, the love of his young life, and everything had ended so messily after the fuck-up with the aphrodisiac and the Confundus charm, and Sev finding out he was a werewolf. That had hurt for _years_ afterward, still did, some days. Remus supposed it didn't help that he hadn't been in a serious relationship since then, since he was 16 years old.

Sighing, he leaned his cheek into his hand as he listened to the headmaster introduce him, smiling politely at the assembled faces. A whole hall full of children, it was enough to terrify the staunchest heart. And it had been so long since he had been around children...not since the days when his family was still alive, when his little sister Cerys would whine to him about some boy or other, and the rest of the younger cousins would shove and play and demand that the older ones let them tag along. Remus had been somewhere in the middle…looking up to the older cousins, and sniffing at the younger ones.

He let his eyes drift idly across to Severus as Dumbledore continued speaking, taking in the changes. There were remarkably few of them, at least physically, from the Sev he remembered from his youth. He recalled a tall, lean boy with olive gold skin and shoulder length, unkempt black hair. This Severus was a tall, lean man with sallow skin, the olive leached from him with the lack of sun, and shoulder length, unkempt black hair. For Christ's sake, he still had the same haircut!

Same enormous nose. Same graceful hands with long, elegant fingers. Same thin lips. Same burning black eyes. Same expressive, arched brows.

But much to his relief, Remus realized that he no longer found Severus Snape beautiful. When they had been together, he could never get enough of staring at the other boy. He had been in awe, every time he saw him, and would get lost in those dark eyes, that delightfully disheveled hair. Now, he could look at the man from an adult's perspective, not through the besotted eyes of a child.

And he noticed with some surprise that most people would not find Severus attractive. His features were much too harsh, his eyes too deep-set, his hair greasy and apparently uncared for. He seldom smiled, and frequently scowled. Still, Remus told himself mildly, he was still very _interesting_ to look at. Those hands seemed to have a life of their own, and there were worlds of nuance to be read in that disagreeable face.

But where Severus hadn't changed much physically, his demeanor more than made up for it. Remus remembered a quiet, controlled boy who mostly kept to himself. He had been somewhat inclined to brooding and moodiness, but mostly he kept up a fairly cold façade. Of course, he was entirely different once one worked their way past his defenses, Remus mused.

But this man, older now, seemed almost consumed with anger. His scowls were furious, hate-filled, his gestures cutting, abrupt. The Sev he remembered had never been much prone to anger, unless pushed extremely hard. This dark man seemed about ready to fly off the handle at any excuse. The werewolf wondered what had happened in the years they had been apart to turn a melancholy young man into this apparently rage-filled person.

Maybe it was Remus' own presence. The DADA professor allowed himself a small laugh at the thought, eyeing the table as it filled with the beginning of term feast. He certainly was looking forward to being able to eat regularly!

"What's so funny?" asked Professor McGonagall to his right. //Minerva,// he reminded himself, //It's Minerva now.//

"Oh, just woolgathering," Remus answered, plucking a steaming cob of corn from the bowl to his left. "Rather personal, I'm afraid," he added with an apologetic smile.

McGonagall nodded knowingly, and allowed the younger professor to rather deftly change the topic of conversation to her own transfiguration classes. The two were soon engaged in a rather fascinating discussion of the more obscure applications of the animagus transformation.

As Remus listened to the older professor delve into some detail of her own transformation, he let his eyes drift over once more to the potions master down the table. And found a pair of coal dark eyes staring back at him intently.

He lost the thread of McGonagall's conversation entirely, as his entire world narrowed down to those eyes and the sound of his own heartbeat in head. He found himself staring back, unblinking, as his thoughts blew through his mind like a hurricane, wiping all coherent musings away in their wake.

//So dark, so hot,// he managed, as he let his breath out in an unconscious sigh. And then Severus was frowning at him, his lean features twisted into a snarl of palpable hate. It was shocking as a bucket of ice water dumped over him, and it brought him back to himself abruptly.

He forced himself to look uninterested, turning back to McGonagall and the nice, safe conversation with an effort. He didn't look back at the potions master all night, congratulating himself at the end of the feast at his restraint. 

//Now if I can just manage that for the rest of the year…//


	2. chapter 2

Severus' promise to himself lasted until a few days before the next full moon. Of course, he realized this would be the case shortly after that first night back, but for the life of him he couldn't think of any way to avoid the werewolf while bringing him his potion. He could have a house elf deliver it, he supposed, but he really did need to observe the other man's tolerance to it, at least that first month, and probably for some time thereafter. The potion was notoriously tricky, and tended to react differently depending on the imbiber.

So it was with an impressively impassive face and a steaming goblet that he stood in front of the door to the new professor's office, knocking crisply. He could hear the invitation to enter drifting faintly out to his ears, and he opened the door and swept in frostily. He took in the state of the room with mild interest as he entered…several bookcases, stuffed haphazardly with scrolls and books, most clearly left by Lupin's predecessor: a complete set of Lockharts waved cheerily at him from next to a stack of Witch Weeklies. The rug here was threadbare, and obviously scrounged from some back room, as was the furniture. The walls were bare.

"Oh, hullo, Severus," Lupin greeted him, one eyebrow cocked curiously. "What brings you- oh, the potion, I see. Do I need to take it this early?"

Severus was rather disappointed to note that the other man didn't look the least bit uncomfortable in his presence, and he placed the goblet in front of Lupin with rather more force than was strictly necessary, slopping a bit onto the top of the desk. "Yes, you do," he answered sharply, trying to cover his own discomfort. "You need to begin the treatments at least three days before the first night of the full moon, and twice a day on the nights of." The desk was covered with papers from students, several school-issue quills, and a half-empty bottle of ink.

"I see," Lupin answered, plucking the goblet from the table and getting his hand wet from where the potion had dribbled down the side. He sniffed it, his face curling into a little moue of disgust as he put it back down hastily. "Ugh, it smells horrid," he commented, absently licking the side of his hand, and flinching once more. "Tastes it, too."

Severus sighed, exasperated, and pulled forth his wand. To his amusement, Lupin blinked, and picked the goblet back up. "No need for that, Severus, I'll drink the damn stuff."

"No, you idiot," the Slytherin sighed again, and muttered, "_Tergeo_," while waving his wand over the desk, effectively cleaning the surface of the excess potion, along with some previously spattered ink. "You didn't think I was threatening you, did you? Honestly."

"Well, you do have something of a reputation around here," Lupin mumbled somewhat sheepishly, smiling up at the other professor. Another one of his patented close-lipped smiles, Severus noted as he snorted at Lupin's comment.

"I try to keep my intimidation tactics confined to the student population, Lupin. I find it puts the rest of the faculty a bit off," he said rather sniffily, surprised as the other man burst into warm laughter.

"Oh, I had forgotten what a sense of humor you had," Lupin explained as he leaned back in his chair. Severus immediately scowled, as he remembered who he was standing here with and talking so casually to…not someone he could trust at all. Not someone he knew, either, not really. Lupin seemed to sense the change in mood, for the smile drifted off his face, to be replaced with something else, something a little sad, a little angry.

"You'd best take that before it gets cold," Severus directed icily.

"Yes, I suppose I should." Lupin took another ginger sniff at the contents, then squinched his eyes shut and downed the whole goblet in several long swallows, his throat working. "Oh, god!" he exclaimed, placing the goblet shakily back on the desk and scrubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand as though to somehow rid himself of the taste. Severus felt a petty surge of gratification at the other man's discomfort, and it made him generous.

"That's probably the monkshood, I understand it is quite unpleasant to those with your…taint. I suppose I could try to mask the flavor with something else next time."

Lupin snapped his eyes up to meet Severus' dark ones, and scowled. "I understand it tastes quite 'unpleasant' to pure wizards, as well," he snapped, and Severus was pleased at how well he was able to hide his surprise at Lupin's suddenly harsh tone. Of course, he had been quite fierce in his youth, as well, when pushed too hard…"Is that all you need from me?"

Severus was tempted to assent, and escape, but his sense of professionalism would not allow him to leave just yet. "No, in fact, it is not. I'm not sure how familiar you are with this potion…"

"I've read everything I could find on it. Most of the articles I found were in scholarly journals, though, so they were a bit beyond me." Lupin's voice had dropped to a safe neutral now, and he did not look at Severus as he spoke, instead focusing on a spot just beyond the Slytherin's right shoulder.

"Well, I'm not sure what has been printed in lay publications, but this potion can cause a wide range of side effects, some of which can be quite dangerous. Not only that, but it does not have a standard concentration that seems to work for all werewolves…I have brewed the most commonly used concentration, but it may be that you will require either something stronger, or weaker." He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. "It is quite possible, and in fact likely, that I will have to adjust the potion somewhat during the course of your treatments."

Lupin surprised him again with a bitter laugh. "Treatments. Ha. As if this were some sort of illness that could be cured…"

Severus glanced at him sharply. "It is, in fact, the medical model that has allowed research wizards to develop the Wolfsbane Potion…in the past, lycanthropy has been seen strictly as a curse, and thus not-"

"It _is_ a curse, Severus. Don't fool yourself on that point," Lupin interrupted him, now transferring the weight of his gaze to the bookshelves. "That potion isn't for me. It's for you."

Severus frowned, confused. He sank down into one of the sagging chairs. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, _I_ don't need the potion. I can be locked up…but locks can break, right? And since Belkin couldn't get the so-called Werewolf Protection Acts pushed through the Ministry, they had to find some way to control us, right?" His voice was drained, distant, and Severus felt something twinge inside himself. "If they can't kill us, might as well try something else."

Severus didn't really know what to say to that. He knew what Lupin was talking about: Ravell Belkin had been attempting to get the Ministry to put their official stamp of approval on her personal quest to wipe werewolves from the face of the earth for many years now. The Werewolf Protection Acts were simply the first step in that process: a law that would require all werewolves to register with the Ministry and give up most of their rights as wizards.

But he also knew several of the people who had developed the Wolfsbane Potion – had, in fact, brought his own insights to the research. Maybe the money the Ministry contributed was motivated by fear, yes, but Nicodemus Pavlov and Ulfric Wagner had the purest of motivations: Pavlov's sister had been bitten, and Wagner was a werewolf himself. Both had been working diligently on a cure for many years, and though they had fallen short, this potion was an enormous leap forward in the research.

"Maybe you should just tell me what I should be watching out for," Lupin interrupted his musings.

* * * * *

Remus leaned his head into his hand as Severus continued with his exhaustive list of possible side effect. "…dizziness, light-headedness, some slurring of speech, blurring of vision, loss of or increase in appetite, interruption of sleep patterns, dry mouth…" He still had that silky baritone that Remus could listen to for hours, but really, the man was a bit of prat at times, wasn't he?

There had been a few moments there when it had seemed like they might actually be able to get on a bit. Not the way things used to be, certainly, but who could expect that? They were both very different people now. A few moments when Severus had talked to him like he was a person, and not some dead rat he had found in his bed. Then that wall had crashed right down again, and Remus was sorry he'd even tried.

He resolved to make no further effort on the icy Slytherin's behalf…he didn't have the energy, and besides, what was the use? Of course, he reminded himself with sheepish honesty, that would probably go out the window the next time the potions master pretended to be human again for even a second. He was too starved for company that could speak English and enjoy a good cup of tea. Even if that company sneered at him whenever his back was turned. And often while he was looking right at him!

"Lupin? Are you listening to me, Lupin?" Severus' voice cut sharply across his inner monologue, and he looked over at the other man mildly.

"Yes…well, sort of." He nearly snickered at the predictable scowl that eclipsed the other man's face as he continued, "But look, you don't expect me to remember all of those, do you? I'll just tell you if I'm feeling anything out of the ordinary, shall I?"

"I suppose that will have to do." Severus pursed his lips in a particularly prissy manner, and Remus had to feign a sudden bout of coughing to cover his escaping laughter. He looked up to see the other man looking at him with one eyebrow raised eloquently.

"Still a bit, um…the potion. Yes." Severus snorted, and Lupin suddenly frowned, remembering something the potions master had said. "Look, if it requires different concentrations, shouldn't you simply start me on the highest dose? I don't want there to be any mistakes, I don't want to hurt anyone."

"I had thought of that, but it's much too dangerous to try the highest dose. I'm not familiar with your system and you seem to be somewhat…compromised of late." Severus shifted those expressive dark eyes to the side, and Remus furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what he meant.

"Oh!" he said, as it suddenly dawned on him. "Do you mean because I'm so skinny right now?"

"Yes," Severus answered uncomfortably. "It doesn't…suit you."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Remus exclaimed in exasperation. Really, what a thing to say. "It's not as though I _chose_ to skip regular meals or live outdoors, Severus."

The man at least had the decency to shift awkwardly, and respond rather hastily, "That's not what I meant."

Remus relented somewhat, and changed the subject. "What do you mean, too dangerous?"

"The monkshood…it's poisonous. At any level it's going to cause at least a little nausea, but if I give you a larger dose than you can tolerate, it could cause you to become very ill, maybe even die. If the potion doesn't seem to be having the desired effect at the current dose, we'll try increasing the monkshood, but only in measured steps," Severus explained, his long, graceful fingers running along the arm of his chair as he leaned forward.

"But what about me? What if I can't control myself?" Remus was quite anxious about this point; it had been the biggest argument he had against returning to Hogwarts.

"That has already been taken into account, Lupin," Severus answered almost smugly. "Your door will be locked and heavily warded for your first transformation. We shouldn't have to take such precautions once we determine the correct mixture, but for now, it seems the safest."

Remus sank back into his chair with a little sigh of relief. "Well, alright, then." He picked up a quill and absently began tapping it against his lips, eyeing the other man as he did so. Since when did Severus have so many buttons? And why on earth was he wearing such a high-collared shirt? Remus remembered that the Slytherin has preferred looser, more flowing garments in his youth.

"Why do you know how to make this potion, anyway?" he asked as the question sprang into his head. "Albus said it was a very difficult one…that would require practice, I suspect."

Severus shifted his eyes away. "I enjoy a challenge," he answered shortly. There was something he wasn't saying, but Remus couldn't even begin to guess what it was.

"Well, I suppose if it makes everyone here safer, it's worth it. The nausea and all, I mean. The…side effects," Remus said slowly. He was torn, at times, about his nature. Some people liked to write about lycanthropy as though a werewolf were possessed by something else during the full moon, but it wasn't like that at all. Remus and the wolf were really one and the same…he could feel inhuman instincts roiling just below the surface most of the time, which intensified the closer he got to the full moon.

His senses, too, got sharper. He suspected that was part of the reason the Wolfsbane Potion was so awful…he could smell it so keenly, it blocked everything else out. On the one hand, he was constantly aware of the danger he posed to others. He didn't really want to hurt anyone…at least, no one here. But on the other hand, he was deeply resentful of other wizard's response to him, the expressions of disgust, pity, or fear that were his inevitable due when anyone found out what he was. Outside of his family, he had never found anyone who had accepted him when they discovered his secret.

Except for James, Sirius, and Peter. Dead or gone, now. He let the pain of it seep through him for a moment, fill him with melancholy and the familiar stab of betrayal. Everyone was gone, except for…

He turned to look at Severus, and blinked to find the other man staring at him. His eyes narrowed as he allowed himself to really remember the biting hurt of this man's rejection, who had been a boy he loved. "Why are you helping me, Severus?" he asked, his voice walking the knife-edge of anger, bright and accusing. "Why are you helping a werewolf? A filthy beast?"

Severus looked away again, out the window behind the desk. He didn't answer, and Remus wondered if he was remembering those words that had just been thrown at him. After all, the Slytherin had used them himself, nearly twenty years ago now. Finally, the darker man spoke, his eyes still watching the clouds roll by behind Remus' head.

"You used to bite yourself, didn't you?"

"What?" Remus gaped at him.

"When you changed. You'd bite or scratch yourself. That's where all those scars came from." The werewolf felt physically staggered by the other man's words. He…remembered? Remus had never told him where he had gotten all the ragged scars that criss-crossed his torso and legs. "It's unusual, for werewolves to do that."

"More common in those bitten at a very young age," Remus answered in a soft, strengthless voice.

"I see." Severus stood, and finally looked down at the younger man, his ebon eyes hooded and secret. He leaned forward, across the desk…and picked up the empty goblet. "Do remember to inform me if you're experiencing any of those side effects I mentioned," he continued, his voice cool and professional.

Remus simply nodded. The man turned his back and swept away, his robes sweeping behind him like great raven's wings as he stalked out the door, shutting it behind him with an echoing thud.


End file.
